The Vivace Building looms tall over Fifth Avenue, the windows glinting brightly in the late morning sunshine. It’s warm for late winter, the March air crisp and fresh but Charlotte trembles slightly looking up at the vast structure in front of her. She’s been standing here for about twenty minutes now, her legs like lead, her throat dry. The large clock on the front of the building shows twenty past eleven and she does her best to swallow the lump in her throat.
Last night… last night…
She can’t even finish the thought. It’s all a blur, hands and skin and breaking china, the moment suspended in her mind forever and she can still feel the ache between her legs, her body unaccustomed to such an intrusion after so long without it. But the rest of her hums, sated and content like a plant that’s finally been watered after months and months of drought. If only her mind was at peace, if only her guilt could be quelled.
She doesn’t remember a lot of what happened afterwards, just the scramble for her clothes, a few stammered goodbyes. She doesn’t even think she had met his eyes before she left and the weight of what they’d done hadn’t hit her until she’d reached her apartment building. She’d had sex with Justin. On his desk. They’d had sex.
Charlotte cringes, feeling horribly exposed in the bright morning sunshine as if everyone can see her secret, as if she has a giant scarlet letter stamped on her forehead. She’d sat on her sofa for a good twenty minutes once she’d gotten home, replaying it over and over again in her head, not just the act but what had led up to it. Her frustration with him and her resolve to let him go and how it had all culminated in her finally telling him how she felt, really being truly honest with him. And then…and then…
She hadn’t slept, her mind furiously going over everything, her stomach in knots. How could she have let this happen? After everything she’d gone through that week with the kiss and the silence and the hurt she’d gone and opened herself up even more. She’d let him in and given him a piece of herself she couldn’t get back. She felt it now, as she always did after she’d slept with someone, that fierce sense of belonging to him. He had claimed her and she had surrendered so completely, let him take her, all of her and she hadn’t realized it until around six a.m. watching as daylight began to climb the walls. It was then that it had really started to hurt, when the realization had crashed down on her that she belongs to him. Belongs to him in that way that can only truly happen when you let someone in like that. In her own mind she was his but he can never be hers. He belongs to someone else.
She’d lain there for awhile longer, her heart in tatters, helpless as the tears had leaked out the corners of her eyes, zigzagging back to her hairline, dripping into her ears. But she didn’t roll over, refused to bury her face in her pillow and really allow herself to sob. She’d done this to herself. She could have pushed him away, told him no, made him stop but she hadn’t. She hadn’t wanted to. She’d wanted all of him, dreamed of it for so long and then there he was, mouth on hers, body inside hers and it had just felt so good. If only she could have been prepared for the fall. Be careful what you wish for.
Once she’d composed herself enough to keep her voice steady she’d called the office, telling the answering machine she wasn’t going to make it in today; she had that flu that was going around. She didn’t even have to pretend to cough, the rough sound of her voice as it grated against her vocal cords was foreign and weak, exhausted and broken.
She couldn’t face Amelia. She could barely even think her name without the guilt wrenching the air from her lungs. As much as she hated Amelia, as much as she didn’t understand her or thought she was a spoiled princess she still couldn’t justify what she’d done to her. Amelia trusted her, trusted her with some of the most intimate parts of her life, with her wedding for crissake! Charlotte had always been taught that you don’t take what’s not yours, be it toys on the playground or boys in the bedroom and up until last night it had been her strong opinion that a woman who helped a man cheat was worse than him. She’d always thought herself better than that, thought she had more respect for her fellow woman, even if it was Amelia.
She’d finally drifted off to sleep around nine but had been woken up not twenty minutes later by the jaunty polka blaring from her cellphone. She’d nearly vomited when Amelia’s voice had screeched at her through the line, asking her where she was and saying that she needed her. Charlotte had been too shocked to try and explain, just listened in bewilderment, as Amelia demanded she be there within the hour and then hung up abruptly.
Charlotte hadn’t even questioned it, just got up and began to dress. It was only when she was sitting on the subway, hurdling faster and faster toward Manhattan that she wondered why she jumped whenever Amelia asked, why Amelia’s word was law and she just laid down and took whatever she dished out. But questioning such things made her think of Justin and the ominous roll of her stomach that came with thoughts of him made her abruptly change her train of thought. She just had to get through this day. It was Friday. One more day and she’d have the weekend to wallow in her own misery.
But now, standing in front of her building, the windows winking in the bright sunlight she wishes she’d stayed in bed. What was she thinking? She isn’t even sure she can look Amelia in the face much less do her bidding all day. The clock now reads eleven-thirty and she is sure they’re all wondering where she is. Swallowing hard she trudges towards the doors, giving a weak smile to the guard as she passes his desk and steps into the elevators.
She closes her eyes against the pull of gravity as the lift pulls her high and higher, towards Amelia, towards every place she doesn’t want to be. She feels too warm, her palms sweaty as she walks down the hall, pausing to take a deep breath before entering the office.
It’s a flurry of activity inside, the phone ringing shrilly, Lauren answering “Amelia Domineck’s office please hold,” over and over again, Isabel searching frantically through the filing cabinet and Kirsten’s nervous stammer wafting out Amelia’s open office door. Charlotte steps in cautiously, almost as if she thinks she would burst into flames simply by stepping foot in here, Amelia’s territory.
A sick part of her mind sounds that she’d already encroached on the most sacred of Amelia’s domain but she pushes that thought down along with the bile in her throat, the guilt almost suffocating. She breaks out in a cold sweat as Amelia storms out of her office, papers clutched in her hand and Kirsten follows nervously.
“Honestly Kirsten, how hard is it to-” Amelia’s voice stops abruptly as her eyes fall on Charlotte, blinking slowly as if seeing an apparition and then her eyes blaze.
Charlotte’s knees go weak and a horrible thought crosses her mind. What if she knows? Amelia has eyes and ears everywhere and she and Justin certainly hadn’t been quiet about it. She feels her legs tremble and she worries they won’t hold her. She wonders for maybe the millionth time in the past twelve hours, what the hell had she been thinking. She opens her mouth to speak but the only thing she succeeds in doing is pulling in a ragged breath, much like the one’s she taken when Justin was on top of her, his body drawing pleasure from hers she’d never dreamed of. She snaps her mouth shut again, balling her fists at her side in order to try and fight the tremble in them.
“Where have you been, Charlotte!” Amelia screeches and all motion stops, the other three girls pausing in their tasks to watch, the phone still ringing shrilly, Lauren and Isabel sharing a conspiratory smile.
“I…I…” Charlotte stutters and then swallows hard as Amelia raises an eyebrow.
“Good lord you look horrible,” Amelia says, her brows creasing as her nose wrinkles slightly.
“Didn’t…didn’t you get my message?” Charlotte asks weakly and Amelia’s eyes narrow, turning towards Lauren whose smug smile of satisfaction slides right off her face.
“No…” Amelia says, her voice low and dangerous and Lauren swallows hard. “Did you check the answering machine when you came in?”
“Um…”
“Lauren, what is your job exactly?” Amelia asks and Charlotte allows her eyes to close for a moment, the continuous ringing of the phone causing her skin to crawl.
“I…I answer the phones,” Lauren says softly.
“You answer the phones,” Amelia confirms with a condescending nod. “Since the answering machine really has nothing at all to do with the phone I can see how you might be confused as to what you’re supposed to do when the little red light blinks, as it is doing right now as you can see. You’re supposed to listen to the messages, write them down, and give them to me. Did you miss that day at secretary college?”
Charlotte is fairly sure no one in the room is breathing, the only sound being that of the phone that is still ringing shrilly, over and over in a steady rhythm, like the rhythm of Justin’s hips pounding into hers. She raises her hand to her forehead rubbing hard, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and she can’t breathe. She can’t think like this. Not here. Not with Amelia standing five feet from her.
“Well, are you going to get that?” Amelia asks finally and the spell is broken, Lauren snatching up the receiver quickly, Isabel turning back to her files and Kirsten scurrying back to her desk, trying to look busy. “Charlotte. In my office.”
Amelia gives a quick jerk of her head as she glides back through her office door and Charlotte stumbles after her, her legs like jelly. She watches Amelia sit behind her desk, flicking her bangs out of her eyes as she drops the papers in her hands with a sigh. If she knew she’d ask her to shut the door wouldn’t she? Or at least send the other girls out somewhere, right? Surely Amelia wouldn’t want anyone to know that her fiancé had cheated on her with the help. She’s so confused she doesn’t know what to believe anymore. Charlotte takes a few more steps into the room, reaching for the back of one of the soft leather couches to steady herself.
“God Charlotte you look like you’re going to be ill,” Amelia says, her tone slightly disgusted. “Sit down before you pass out on the carpet.”
Charlotte does her best to breathe deep, falling not at all gracefully into one of the chairs in front of Amelia’s desk and its then that she notices the giant floral arrangement behind her. There must be six-dozen roses in it.
“Do you have that thing that’s going around?” Amelia asks uninterestedly and then sighs. “Justin was throwing up all night.” She shakes her head.
Charlotte’s body jerks at the sound of his name, her mouth falling open. He was sick all night? She looks down in her lap, forcing the tears back, trying to calm her breathing, trying to keep her heart from beating its way out of her chest. Sex with her was enough to make him vomit. Great. But she knows this isn’t the case, not really. She knows Justin, knows deep down that he’s a good man, knows that her guilt is most likely nothing compared to what he’s going through. A new pain surfaces with this thought, pain at the realization that what happened last night was nothing more than a mistake in his mind, something to be forgotten and apologized for. It meant nothing.
“Although he must be feeling better today,” Amelia says glancing over her shoulder, a small smile pulling at her lips as she turns back to the papers in front of her. “These were here for me when I got in this morning.”
Now Charlotte is sure she’s going to be ill. She drove him to send Amelia flowers. A surge of anger rushes through her and she has to set her jaw to keep her scoff of indignation at bay. He’s running back to Amelia? But really should she have expected any less? After all they are engaged and all he and Charlotte had was something quick and dirty on his desk. She should be disgusted with herself for becoming nothing more than another one of his throwaway girls but even thinking back on it now she can feel her body begin to warm. His hands were so strong and capable, his fingers long and nimble and when he’d touched her so intimately she’d almost been pacified over the loss of his body in hers...almost.
Her brain snaps back suddenly, biting her bottom lip hard as she looks across the desk at Amelia. She looks disgruntled but not angry and Charlotte would like to think that if Amelia knew what had happened last night that she would be playing it a lot cooler, throwing off that sophisticated detachment she is so known for. But Charlotte doesn’t even pretend to understand Amelia or really attempt to discern her moods and motives anymore.
“Well since you’re obviously not going to be of much use feeling the way you do I guess you can go home,” Amelia says reluctantly and Charlotte lets out a slow sigh of relief. “I just...” Amelia sighs dramatically. “I just really need you to do a few things? Do you think you’re up to it?”
Her tone suggests that if she isn’t up to it Charlotte needs to suck it up and do it anyway. She sighs. “Yes, Amelia, what do you need?”
“I need you to go down to Tiffany and Bloomingdales and pick up four more of the china that you brought to Justin last night.”
Charlotte’s fingers curl around the arms of her chair, her green eyes going wide as she watches Amelia flick through a file on her desk. Her heart feels as if it’s going to beat its way out of her ribcage and she keeps her teeth clenched as sweat breaks out on her forehead, her entire body beginning to tremble. She does not breathe.
“After you left he apparently went to kick his legs up on his desk, which I have told him numerous times NOT to do, and tipped back too far,” she rolls her eyes. “He grabbed onto his calendar to keep from falling but only succeeded in breaking every single one,” she pauses for a moment seething, then flicking papers again quickly. “Oh and could you stop by Sharper Image and pick up a new desk lamp for him. He managed to break that too. I swear that man¬–” she pauses abruptly as she looks up at Charlotte. “Maybe you should go get your trashcan, you look like you’re about to–”
“I’m fine,” Charlotte says quickly, her voice a dry rasp and she forces a smile that looks more like a grimace, reaching for a notepad on Amelia’s desk and snatching up a pen. “More plates, g-got it.”
“And I’ll need you to call Arthur to set up a lunch meeting for tomorrow. Lauren is obviously incapable. If you could go down to the studio on East 86th and check to see if that one girl is doing anything. I’ve been waiting for demos from her for two weeks now. Oh and I’ll need you to check with Felicity and see if Justin has his flight for Los Angeles.”
Charlotte’s mind jars. “Los Angeles?”
“Yes,” Amelia says, glancing at her briefly. “He’ll be gone all next week.”
“Oh,” Charlotte says softly, looking down at her lap, her hand shaking as she writes the word “flight” at the bottom of her list.
He isn’t even going to be here. She won’t see him again for a whole other week. She’s caught between relief and sorrow, her heart tugging and pulling in two different directions. She’s comforted by the fact that she doesn’t have to face him quite yet, relieved that she’ll have some time to get her head on straight because god knows if she saw him now she’d burst into tears, or worse throw up on his shoes. But the pain is sharp when she realizes how far away he’ll be and though she knows she needs time, time away, time to think, time to adjust, that part of her that she gave to him is calling to her from wherever he is, begging her to come back to him.
“Please make sure it leaves early on Sunday. He doesn’t need to be driving during rush hour traffic. Why he insists on driving while he’s there anyway I’ll never know. While you’re at it make sure that he’s staying at a hotel that is fairly close to downtown. And kind of get an idea about what Felicity plans on doing while she’s there. I don’t need him running all around Los Angeles by himself because that girl wants to go to the beach.” Amelia scoffs. “That’s all.”
Charlotte nods, ripping the paper from the notepad and dropping it back on Amelia’s desk, her hands steady for the first time in hours. She feels calmer now that she has a task, a purpose other than just pining after him or dreading their inevitable first encounter. She sits quietly at her desk, reaching for the phone trying her best to ignore the curious looks from the other girls and just do the work she has to do.
“Amelia,” Isabel’s voice is small and quiet as she peeks her head around Amelia’s office door. “The girls and I were wondering if it was okay to take our lunches together today? Since Charlotte’s here she can answer the phones.”
Charlotte hears Amelia’s annoyed sigh as she dials Arthur’s office number. “I guess that’s alright.”
Charlotte snorts as she listens to the ring of the phone, watching the girls grin and giggle as they gather their designer purses, chattering girlishly as they file their way out of the office, glancing down their noses at her as she leaves a message for Arthur to call her back. But she doesn’t have much time to think on it, the phone ringing again almost as soon as it’s hung up.
She’s so busy fielding calls and taking messages she doesn’t notice the office door open and it’s only as she’s hanging up again that her breath catches in her throat, seeing Justin standing bewildered in the doorway. He looks haggard and worn, deep black rings pitted under his bloodshot eyes and his face is pale against the black leather of his jacket. But this is all secondary to the fact that his once curly head is now shaved close to his scalp and he brings a hand up to rub over it self-consciously, his eyes immediately falling to the floor.
His heart thumps unevenly in his chest, roaring in his ears and he struggles to regain his composure. He hadn’t expected to see her, was sure she’d taken a sick day when Amelia had called to thank him for the flowers and she’d complained that Charlotte still wasn’t in yet. He wasn’t ready to see her, wasn’t ready to deal with this yet.
After they’d dressed and she’d stammered her goodbye he’d sat at his desk for a good hour just staring at the havoc around him. Pieces of broken china littered the floor and his desk lamp lay bent and cracked next to his desk. What had he done? Thoughts had flickered in and out of his mind, excuses and explanations stumbling over one another but his brain was fuzzy and sated, his body still humming. He hadn’t had sex in five months. Six? Seven? Fuck he didn’t even remember and Charlotte had pissed him off beyond rational thought. Charlotte…
He’d walked home, the length of Fifth Avenue nowhere near long enough and when he’d stared up at his building, their building the guilt was enough to eat him alive. How could he have done that to her? His girl was upstairs, in bed waiting for him and he’d gone and fucked some girl in his office and what was his excuse? Just that he hadn’t had sex in awhile, that Charlotte had pissed him off? God, Charlie… He’d shivered, trying to banish it from his mind but it lingered, his head swimming, treading water.
The apartment was quiet when he’d entered, the lights dim and every step he took up the marble staircase was like marching up to the gallows. He had wiped his hand across his mouth as he’d reached their bedroom door, as if he could wipe away her kiss, wipe away what they’d done but there was nothing he could do. Amelia had been in bed, a book in her lap and when she looked up at him and gave him a small smile of acknowledgement his stomach and turned so quickly that he had to run to the bathroom, his knees bruising as they slammed against the floor to allow him to retch into the toilet.
He’d insisted he was fine, telling her it was that flu that had been going around and muttered something about not wanting her to catch it before he’d closed the bathroom door and stepped into the shower. He’d stood in there for what seemed like days, scrubbing his skin raw as he let the water scald him but he couldn’t cleanse his conscience and he could never take back what he did.
Afterward he’d banished himself to the guestroom, curling up on the hard mattress and begging sleep to come but it didn’t, his stomach too upset to allow him peace; there was no sleep for the wicked after all. He’d stared up at the ceiling for hours, his guilt holding him hostage but worse than the guilt was the memory replaying over and over again in his mind the rip of her nails and the sound of her moans. His body had responded against his will, which only made him retch again, anger and helplessness ripping his chest to shreds.
But something else burned him besides the guilt, something deep in his chest that he didn’t want to acknowledge and that was the tiny hole from the piece of himself he’d given away that night. Even then in his most tormented state when he’d wanted to hate her, wanted to blame all of this on her he couldn’t. He cared for her too much and the tenderness he’d always felt towards Charlotte was deeper now, evocative and fierce and he’d almost forgotten how the first time with someone new made him feel. Vulnerable as if she had taken part of the protective shield around his heart and she could get in whenever she wished.
He hadn’t slept, played possum when Amelia had come in to check on him in the morning. His stomach had tipped violently when she’d pressed her lips softly to his temple, her fingers running through his hair like her fingers had ran through his hair not twelve hours before but he hadn’t moved, waited for the soft snap of the door closing behind her and her heels echoing down the hall before he couldn’t hold back anymore and stumbled back into the bathroom to dry heave into the bowl.
It was then that he’d resolved to make it right, his mind working frantically thinking that if he did just the right thing that he’d be absolved. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind softly called that nothing could rectify this, years of heartbreak and sleepless nights over women who’d done him wrong gnawing at him but he refused to admit that the damage had been done. He could fix this.
The cold buzz of the clippers against his head was like a baptism and he’d kept his eyes on his hands, watching as his hair fell in soft curls into the sink. He’d hung his head when it was finished and then he finally looked up into his own eyes, seeing the man he was, the coward that he was. He’d make this right. He had to. He’d called the florist, ordering as many dozen roses as they could fit in a vase, only the reddest of the red for his girl. His mind had stumbled when they’d asked him what he wanted on the card and a thousand outrageous scenarios had raced through his mind. Sorry I fucked your assistant. He’d had to close his eyes and breathe deep through his nose to quell his nausea before he could continue on. He’d opted for a simple “Love, Justin” and left it at that.
But his guilt could not be quelled. He’d lolled around the apartment all morning, exhausted but unable to rest, his mind fuzzy and listless and he found that he was unable to control his train of thought. Remembrances of Charlotte’s skin and hair, the taste of her lips, the feel of her body snug and warm around his could not be pushed back and neither could the uneven beat of his heart with every thought of her. He couldn’t wait to see her again, his heart tugging itself to shreds at the mere thought of spending the next week three thousand miles away. Although the better part of him, the man that was still passionately in love with Amelia knew that he needed the time away, needed the space to get his emotions in check. No contact was the way to go with this situation he thought, trying to drown out the small voice in the back of his head that called him a coward. But a string of business meetings in Los Angeles seemed drab and colorless without even the possibility of a phone call back to the city to regale her with whatever amusing thing had happened to him that day.
But he couldn’t think that way. Not anymore. He’d left the apartment with no particular agenda, walked aimlessly down Fifth Avenue and through the park before weaving back again and when he’d seen Harry Winston he couldn’t help stopping in. Common sense told him he’d spent too much as he rode the elevator up to Amelia’s office but his guilt shouted back that he didn’t have enough money in the world to make this right. He’d had every intention to take her to lunch, although he was sure he wouldn’t be able to eat but she always enjoyed him surprising her…well as long as it was a good surprise. Common sense was beginning to come around to the fact that maybe he’d spent just enough.
But all his thoughts are shattered and splintered now, his atonement partially forgotten as he takes in Charlotte’s haggard appearance. Her dark hair is lank, her skin sallow and she looks like she hasn’t slept. Her dress shirt is rumpled and its like a punch in the gut when he finds her neck bare, the small v of open buttons revealing nothing but skin where her compass necklace usually glinted back at him.
“Hey,” she blurts somewhat spastically and her cheeks redden just slightly. He almost smiles.
“Justin!”
He jumps at the sound of Amelia’s voice and his heart thuds unevenly in his chest, his eyes flicking nervously between his fiancé and the woman he’d bent in half on his desk only twelve or so hours ago. He brings a hand up to his mouth, rubbing over it slowly as sweat breaks out on his upper lip. A twisted part of his brain wonders if she can sense it, if Amelia can tell just by looking at him, by the tension that is sucking all the air from the room but she gives no indication. In fact she looks elated.
“Oh Justin darling your hair!” she exclaims a wide smile pulling at her lips as she steps forward and he fights his flinch as she reaches up to rub his head affectionately. “You look great.” She beams at him, her blue eyes roving over his face and he forces a feeble smile back at her. “Doesn’t he look great, Charlotte?”
Justin glances at her and finds her head resolutely down as she makes a non-committal noise in her throat.
“Are you feeling better?” Amelia asks offhandedly, turning to go back into her office and motioning for him to follow.
He pauses, his fingers curling around the handles of the little black bag in his hand and he can’t help but glance at Charlotte. Their eyes meet and something strong and arresting pulls in their stomachs, causing their eyes to drop to the floor, their hearts thundering in their chests, trying to catch their breaths.
“What’s that?”
Justin’s mind jars and he looks up at Amelia who’s paused in her doorway, noticing the bag in his hand and he looks down at it dumbly. His thoughts whir in his head and he wishes he could think, just think. He can’t handle the two of them in the same room right now. His heart can’t take it, ripping itself to shreds and separating itself into piles, one for each and he’s suffocating from it.
“For you,” he manages to stutter as he holds the bag out to her dumbly and his chest loosens as he watches her eyes light up, snatching it away from him in excitement.
“Oh!” she exclaims, her hand going to her throat as she takes in the string of diamonds, glittering brilliantly in the light, each stone flawless and shimmering curling down towards a large pear drop shaped diamond. He can see her surprise for a moment before it turns to elation. “Oh my god Justin this is…” she can’t even speak as her fingers run over the delicate necklace and he can’t help but smile.
“You like it?” he questions softly, his thoughts settling for a moment and he can’t get over how utterly beautiful she is when she’s happy. There’s his girl.
“Yes!” Amelia exclaims, fiddling with the clasp. “Help me put it on.”
Justin chuckles slightly as she shoves the jewelry in his hand and Charlotte scoffs, bitterness and something akin to jealously raging inside her. It figures he’d buy her something extravagant. Charlotte tries not to think about Amelia’s jewelry collection wondering if this was his custom. He fucks someone random and then gets her something to quell his guilt. She’s disgusted and he can see it so plainly on her face when he chances a glance at her while fastening the clasp around Amelia’s neck.
“How does it look?” Amelia asks breathlessly, not even waiting for a response before running into her office and looking in the mirror right next to her door. “Oh it’s just stunning!”
Justin swallows hard, giving Charlotte one last fleeting glance before scurrying back into Amelia’s office. He places a hand on her shoulder and leans in, pausing briefly before his lips touch her cheek delicately. Charlotte shouldn’t have let her eyes follow him, shouldn’t have seen Amelia’s eyes sink closed and the joy radiating off her as she turns to him and reaches to touch his face. If she hadn’t she wouldn’t see the soft look in his eyes as he looks at his fiancé. Her heart wouldn’t be ripping itself to ribbons right now and she wouldn’t be fighting tears as she tries to focus on her computer screen.
“Nothing but the best for my girl,” Justin says in what he hopes is a casual, merry way. Amelia just beams at him.
“Well I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she says patting his chest and he tries to ignore the tightness there.
“Yeah,” he says shifting awkwardly as she fiddles with the necklace, turning her head this way and that, admiring herself in the mirror.
“Are you going in to the office?” she asks offhandedly, flicking her hair out of her face and pursing her lips, smoothing her finger tips along her cheekbone.
“Uh…no,” Justin says, his stomach turning slightly at the thought of his desk, Charlotte’s legs wrapped around his waist.
He gasps slightly, wobbling on his legs and he takes a staggering step towards the couches, his hand gripping the back of one as his heart thumps unevenly in his chest. He jumps when he feels Amelia’s hand rub between his shoulder blades.
“Are you okay?” she asks, concern lacing her words and he glances over at her, finding it genuine which only causes the guilt to rise, his stomach rolling ominously. “You look like you’re going to be ill,” she says for the second time in the past fifteen minutes.
“I’m fine,” he says, panting slightly and shaking his head. Amelia gives him a dubious look.
“Maybe you should try and see the doctor before your flight on Sunday,” Amelia says then her brows go from furrowed in concern to raised in remembrance. “Did Felicity make your flight yet?”
“Uh…”
Justin stutters slightly, trying to keep his face smooth and blank while his train of thought switches from one concealment to the next. The truth is he hadn’t seen much of Felicity in the last week or so. She’d been taking some acting class in the village since the beginning of the year and they were just gearing up for her first big performance on Saturday night. He’d been running lines with her since the beginning of the month and he had to admit she was actually really good and seemed to finally be focused on something she wanted to do. He was happy for her and proud of her, so when she’d told him that she had rehearsals all week starting at one in the afternoon he’d been all too happy to let her leave at lunch everyday. But that also meant she’d only been around in the mornings and she was so busy trying to keep up that he had left her alone for the most part.
“Justin,” Amelia sighs, her face screwing up in weary annoyance. “What does the girl do? Honestly, she never–”
“Babe she’s just been preoccupied with that play,” Justin says delicately, his voice soothing but Amelia just rolls her eyes.
“So she’s an actress now?” Amelia asks throwing her hands in the air as she moves around her desk, shuffling through her day planner. “When is that girl going to take something seriously?”
“She’s taking this pretty seriously,” Justin defends gently. “She’s been working her ass off all week–”
“Don’t curse,” Amelia scolds lightly as she looks up at him frowning and he purses his lips. “Is that why you’ve been answering phones in the afternoons?”
Justin shifts. “She’s just been–”
Amelia sighs, dropping her arms to her sides and looking at him tiredly. “Justin I think it’s time you fired her.”
Justin gasps, his brow creasing but there’s a little voice inside his head that says maybe, maybe if he did this for Amelia, gave her something she’d been pushing for for awhile that he’d be absolved, they’d be even. But the guilt chokes him then, not just for what he’s done but for even thinking of sacrificing Fee for his own gain. And what would that really gain him anyway? He doesn’t like this feeling, this desperation that makes his mind claw for every possible escape, any way to be exonerated from his guilt.
“No,” Justin says, shaking his head and waving a hand dismissively.
Amelia eyes him hard before lifting her hand and beginning to tick off her fingers. “She is constantly late, she doesn’t give you your messages, she leaves early¬–”
“That was just for this week!” Justin says and even though he knows it’s a flimsy argument he can’t help but try. He’d nearly put her on the chopping block before and now he’ll do anything to save her. “Her play will be over my the end of next week–“
“Next week?” Amelia asks, one eyebrow raised in question, her eyes dancing triumphantly and Justin cringes. Desperation made him careless. “Next week when she’s supposed to be in Los Angeles?”
“Amelia–”
“However will she manage that?” Amelia asks her eyes holding innocence while her voice drips with sarcasm. “She must be smarter than we give her credit for if she can be in two places at once.”
“Don’t do this,” Justin says with a sigh letting his head hang back.
He’s too tired and too turned around to play this game with her right now. He’s tempted to give her whatever she wants, his head jumbled and messy, his heart reckless in its attempt to atone for what he’s done. But he won’t do that. Can’t do that. This is his battle and no one else’s. No one else will take the fall for what he’s done.
“What were you planning on doing?” Amelia asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Amelia,” Justin says, sighing, his fatigue wearing his patience thin. “I lived in LA for nearly ten years. I’m sure I can–”
Amelia sighs, waving a hand, “Charlotte will go with you.”
Justin’s blood runs cold, all the color draining away from his face and he has to lean back against one of the couches for support again. He glances quickly out the door and from where he is he can see Charlotte hunched over her desk, her back rigid. She isn’t moving, but he can tell from the quick rise and fall of her shoulders that she’s panting and he knows she’s heard. There’s no way that they can spend an entire week together, completely unsupervised and three thousand miles away from Amelia. He curses the quiet part of his mind that wanders down that path, exploring all the possibilities that would be laid out to them and the guilt rises suddenly, his knees almost buckling.
“No,” he says, his voice a low croak in his throat and Amelia scoffs shaking her head.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Justin. You have a string of important meetings lined up and–”
“Amelia, I said fucking no,” Justin barks, and Amelia’s lips part slightly in astonishment. He cringes. “Look I can–”
“How dare you speak to me that way!” Amelia screeches and Justin cringes. He hadn’t quite realized he’d had a headache until Amelia’s voice causes a stab of pain behind his left eye. “You need someone with you, Justin. There are photographers everywhere and with you not feeling your best you don’t need to try and navigate the entire city by yourself. In case you don’t remember you’re finalizing Grateman’s tour and meeting about Kalayah’s upcoming release all of which are integral to your label’s–”
“FINE!” Justin yells finally, turning to stomp out his head throbbing wickedly. He throws a hand in the air. “Just send Lauren or someone fuckin else.”
“Justin Timberlake don’t you walk away from me!” Amelia yells. “I am wearing Jimmy Choos and I will not chase after you.”
Against his better judgment he stops. Stops but doesn’t turn, doesn’t move. Charlotte is still sitting at her desk, he can feel her not three feet from him and he can’t breathe. Things were never like this with her. She didn’t push and she worked with him instead of just demanding her way. She keeps her head bowed, trying to pretend she’s not there all the while pretending that him not wanting her there with him doesn’t sting. She knows its for the best, trembles at the very thought of spending that much time alone with him but it still hurts.
“What is wrong with you?” Amelia asks and now he can feel her behind him, close enough to touch and his stomach rolls. “You and Charlotte are always–”
Her voice cuts off and Justin’s eyes close, feeling a sense of understanding wash over her. She knows. He’s sure of it then. What else would she be thinking? He wonders how she’ll react, wonders if she’ll scream and rant or break down and cry. When he’d found out about her past infidelity he’d done both. He wants to turn, wants to look at her and apologize, say he didn’t know what he was thinking which is the truth - he still doesn’t know what he’s thinking – but his feet seem to be stuck to the floor.
“What did she do?” Amelia asks, her voice laced with malice and Charlotte’s eyes widen as Amelia’s narrow on her.
He hears Charlotte gurgle in an attempt to explain and he feels a swell of protectiveness wash over him. “Nothing,” he sighs, turning and finding Amelia staring coldly at Charlotte. “She didn’t do anything.”
“Don’t lie Justin I know you two haven’t been talking,” Amelia says, eyeing the two of them suspiciously. “Surely there must be something going on–”
“NO!” they both exclaim at once and Amelia looks at them both perplexed.
“I just…it was a silly misunderstanding,” Charlotte stutters out quickly, her eyes flicking to Justin’s and he nods.
“Yeah…we worked it out.”
“Last night.” Charlotte adds and then feels her cheeks burn, cursing her stupid mouth. She hears Justin gulp as the phone rings. She snatches for it desperately. “Amelia Domineck’s office”
“Yeah,” he breathes out a shaky sigh, trying not to look at her but finds that he has to sneak at least one glance. “Last night.”
“Then there should be no problem with her going with you,” Amelia says, her eyes boring into his and he feels as if he’s being x-rayed. “I mean you’re both obviously ill.” Her nose wrinkles. “You’re sweating.” She waves a hand. “There’s no need to infect the other girls.”
“Amelia,” Charlotte says, her voice trembling slightly as she cups her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “Its Arthur.”
“Oh good,” she says, turning to go back into her office. “Let me just take this and then you can take me to lunch. Charlotte, order his plane ticket.” Her office door closes with a snap.
The silence left in her wake is deafening and they both shift and stutter, looking resolutely at the floor. Charlotte longs to know what he’s thinking, desperate for some answers. Her eyes lift, roving hungrily over his sweaty face, his eyes still watching his toes wiggle inside his sneakers. She needs to know what he’s thinking, needs to know what he’s feeling. Surely he’s as jumbled up inside as she is or he wouldn’t be acting this way.
“Justin–”
“We should fly commercial,” he says suddenly, reaching up to scratch at his ear, watching his shoe scuff the carpet. “Southwest is good. A morning flight.”
“O-okay,” Charlotte says, fighting the warble in her tone and he barely glances at her before rushing to the door.
“I’ll… I’ll wait for her outside,” he says, fingers working clumsily over the knob so that it takes him a few tries to get it open.
Charlotte considers herself lucky that Amelia gets out the door before the tears come.
Story Tags: fiancej desksex affair love hottubsex
